


Of New Beginnings

by MadamRogers



Series: Of New Beginnings [1]
Category: jackie & ryan
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Romance, lots And lots of singing, one shot turned into a series
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-02
Updated: 2019-02-02
Packaged: 2019-10-21 00:04:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17632313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MadamRogers/pseuds/MadamRogers
Summary: You’re trying to show your friend that she can deal with her Friday stress otherwise than just drinking her head off and see this interesting musician. But it’s unfortunate that you can’t meet him just yet. Well, your friend has a different kind of present for you on your birthday.





	Of New Beginnings

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own the songs sang in this chapter, except the last one. I wrote it for this piece and I hope it isn't totally shitty.

You were sure that if you’d get up now, it would draw all the attention right to you. Everyone was focused on the young man singing at the end of the pub, and during this moment you were happy Carrie had eventually given in. You knew your friend was one of those girls who liked to go to bars and find a nice guy or two for you girls to chat with, but you were different. You never fancied those guys; they were always too clingy, came too close and their breathing was a mix of cigarettes and cheap smell of alcohol. That you can get with only a few coins from the shops. By the end of the night, the guys still stepping on your heels when you tried to get rid of them (and you blamed Carrie for that), you promised yourself that never again.

This night was the first time you had had been able to change Carrie’s way of spending her Friday night. You could see it in her eyes; she was still longing for neon lights and bright drinks with umbrellas and those guys who you were able to elude only when you found them some other place to get more drinks or stepped into a cab.

That was who Carrie was and the reason why you loved her so much. She was always on your side (except during these times she knew very well what she needed after a shitty and hard week at work – and she seemed to have those often), took care of you and knew perfectly well what you needed when you got sad or sick or just felt off. She knew how to increase the happiness level when you were already bursting. She was good at that. She never told your secrets and did everything she could to protect you, kick you towards something. You two had known each other since school, and she was practically your mentor.

Even though, sometimes it felt like you were her mother.

Now she was whining every once in a while, telling you how this pub was nothing compared to the bar a few blocks away. She was dying to get there. You weren’t just going to give in; only over your dead body.

That was partly because you had seen him. The young man singing at the end of the pub, playing his guitar and sitting on a black stool. He was covering Kenny Rogers’ The Gambler when you paid closer attention to him; he had been singing since you had come inside with Carrie, but it wasn’t unusual to this pub to have someone playing. Yes, you had been in this very pub before. Sometimes after work when you were in desperate need of food and a warm drink. That was something you had wanted to give Carrie, to show her that stress and irritation didn’t have to be killed with alcohol.

“Y/N, are you serious?” It was the third time in a quarter of an hour Carrie whined something similar. It always had the same meaning; the words she used were just different.

Can we go now?

I’m bored to death… When did you become this old, boring fart?

Y/N, we’re breaking up. You get the couch, I take everything else. You won’t see our children ever again.

When you told her that neither of you had children, just to shut her up, she told that the TV and the fridge could be seen as children. Carrie got silly when she wanted to get reactions out of you, but after that she really shut up. She probably saw how you paid no attention to her.

“Yes, I’m very serious,” your voice was closer to a whisper than anything else.

He was so focused on what he was doing that he seemed to have forgotten where he was. You found yourself thinking that a pub like this was not the place for a musician like him. This was the place for those who had woken up a bit too late to realize they wanted to be Johnny Cash, Elton John, Bonnie Tyler or some other musician from the old days. You had seen everything from a very poor Elvis Presley imitation to some decent versions of Billy Joel’s Piano Man, but they were nothing compared to this, compared to him. 

He had dark hair that had been touched by wind or it was naturally wavy on the back of his neck. Carrie would say he had Lullaby Boy’s physique, whatever that meant, you still hadn’t been able to figure that out. She had words for everything. You weren’t able to spot what he had on his fingers but you saw he most likely had tattoos. He had a black sweater on, sleeves pulled up on his elbows and a sand-brown, worn-out cap on his locks. The beard he had was a bit more than just stubble of a few days, and you could see from where you were sitting with Carrie that his eyes were just as dark as his hair.

He played the last note of The Gambler and people clapped their hands. It was like an unwritten rule, everybody joined in; the pub wasn’t crowded that night, there were only a few people here and there, but all those hands clapped together gave an illusion of a big audience. He got modest and showed a smile, looking like he was pushing out a chuckling breath.

You heard one of the regulars in a lodge closer to him drawing his attention to him and his friends with a loud “hey, boy”.

“Play Piano Man, would ya?”

You chuckled. Roger never got enough of the versions of his long-time favorite song. He always told it was about him; he had been Piano Man when he was younger. Now he was one of those men who wore leather jackets during their free time and tweed coats when they were needed. His friends, those three other men he was always with, agreed on Roger’s wish and asked the young man with the guitar did he know that song.

“Yeah, I know the song,” he said. It was quiet in the pub, so you were able to hear his voice. It was deep, it was husky, there was something extremely beautiful in it and you felt you could almost touch it.

“How about House of the Rising Sun?”

“I know that too,” he nodded.

Roger looked at his friend and made a long and low snorting sound. The man with the guitar touched his nose and smiled a short but gentle smile.

“Come on, boy, play Piano Man,” Roger’s hand swung in the air as he leaned back against his seat.

“Always Piano Man… That man has no sense of classics,” you turned your head to see two elderly women a few tables away from the one you and Carrie were sitting at. Before you could turn back towards the man with the physique of Lullaby Boy (you made a mental note of asking Carrie what that meant exactly), he was already playing the first notes of the song. His eyes fell closed, the words filled the pub, and you were able to see all the emotions he had by the way his face reacted to the words and notes.

“Now I get it,” you were able to hear Carrie’s voice as she spoke knowingly. “He is why you wanted to come here…”

“No, I’ve never seen him before,” you answered but couldn’t turn your gaze away from him. You were in the middle of the veil his singing had created over the people in the pub. You felt his warmth; you felt the lyrics… and the tears burning behind your eyes.

 

“Sing us a song you’re the piano man

Sing us a song tonight

Well we’re all in the mood for a melody

And you got us feeling alright”

 

When he opened his eyes and his gaze rose up from the floor, then from Roger and his hand that tapped the melody on the corner of his table, his eyes found you. You met them without looking for a way to escape, like you always did with the guys at the bars, you looked at him when he sang and played.

It was only a few seconds long gaze but not the last. Every once in a while his dark eyes found their way back to you, and after a while you were able to smile to him. Smiling back to you, he reached the end of the song, and with the way Roger was clapping his hands, you knew he had heard the best version of his favorite song.

“He’s good,” Carrie said next to you, not even a hint of a whine present in her voice. “Really good, actually…”

“Yeah… He’s really good,” you looked at him, not paying attention to Roger’s friend who turned around in the lodge to see the young man better. Looking at the four men, the one on the stool smiled kindly, nodded his head and let his fingers touch the strings, so the guitar made a warm sound.

He stole glances towards you every once in a while and wasn’t exactly hiding it. No one seemed to notice what he did, still. You were happy about that; Carrie noticing it was enough.

“He’s looking at you, Y/N. You should go and to talk to him. Catch this Lullaby Boy.”

When his eyes were back on Roger and his friends, you turned to look at Carrie next to you. She sat there with chin against her palm and this knowing, pushing look in her eyes. Her smile was even worse; she knew these things. She knew what kind of men drew your attention, was very aware of the fact that none of the guys at the bars had done that. Partly, she felt bad for it. Her complaints had been just testing your true will. She had seen how you were looking at Lullaby Boy.

She knew you were doing all this because you wanted her to do something else than drink her head off and she appreciated your determination and kindness. But the truth was, this wasn’t her place – but it really was yours. She didn’t know how many times you had been here, but by the way you sat and seemed to be perfectly comfortable, she could tell this wasn’t your first time. Not even the second or third, something much different.

Carrie was happy for you. You had finally found a place you felt comfortable in. Now all you needed was a clear path in life, a new beginning. She was so close to you that she was able to read from the way you held your hand that something bothered you, and recently that had been going on a lot. Your last year and a half hadn’t been the easiest. She had walked with you, caught you when you had almost fallen but knew that what you really needed was a new road to walk.

You needed a new beginning.

And now, as she looked at you listening to Lullaby Boy, she knew you were a step closer to that.

Somehow she knew. She was known to have a good sense of that kind of things; she had more often than not been right. She relaxed a bit and let her long, blonde hair’s ends touch the table.

“That man’s bothering him; go to save the poor boy.”

“That’d be rude… They’re having a conversation…”

“Stop being a saint, Y/N! He looks like he wants the floor to swallow him now and not on next Wednesday. It’s nowhere near rude if you – “

Carrie’s sentence drifted off under the sound of your phone’s angry pinging.

Your face dropped as you looked at the screen, anxiety taking over your body. Carrie could see your despair in the way your body shifted.

“No… No, no, no…”

“What is it?” Carrie frowned at your face.

You quickly started to gather your stuff. There wasn’t much to gather, so you were able to say in the middle of it: “I have to go.”

When you got up, you looked at the man for the last time. He had just started to sing Don McLean’s Vincent and he looked confused when he met your sorry gaze. The next thing he saw was you running out of the pub with your blonde friend after you, hair swinging in the rhythm of her steps.

 

“Now I understand what you tried to say to me

And how you suffered for your sanity

How you tried to set them free

They would not listen, they did not know how

Perhaps they’ll listen now”

 

********************

 

After that disastrous Friday night, after getting the message from your mother telling your grandfather had had to go to a hospital, you had looked for Lullaby Boy. You went back to the pub when you could, but it was Monday evening and he wasn’t there.

You went there the next evening as well.

On Friday you thought the floor had probably swallowed him and blamed Roger for it. He was sitting in the same lodge with the same four friends as always, and you even asked them. But they didn’t know a thing. Only that he had left after playing two more songs after Vincent and hadn’t come back.

So, neither did you.

Your birthday was coming, and it made you sad. You readied yourself to spend it alone, to have a double date with chocolate and wine. What could have been sadder than sitting on the couch on your own birthday, alone, eating chocolate and drinking cheap wine? It was bad, what’s more. Horrible. Nauseating.

What was even worse? The fact that you were going to watch some crappy TV. And when does a person watch crappy TV, eat chocolate and drink wine on her own, on her birthday while being sad?

When everything goes downhill with the speed of a cheetah.

All that when you thought nothing could be worse.

Carrie kicked the end of the couch you were sitting on, refusing to ever again get up and meet the world. The old tears that had dried on your cheeks for so many reasons, missed moments, stupid decisions and frustrated anger, were now showing how desperate you were. Carrie dropped herself on the couch next to you and pulled you in her arms, almost on her lap and swayed you a little.

You cried. You cried everything out, and Carrie was there holding you. When you stopped, she stayed still and didn’t let you move; her hand was in your hair as the other one was wrapped tightly around your back.

“I broke up,” she told you as if it was nothing. You looked up at her with red and swollen eyes, letting out a sorry whining sound, mumbling your apologies, but Carrie only shook her head. “We weren’t right for each other. I think I knew it. But it’s not the point. The point is that you have to cancel that double date. We’re going out on your birthday, you and me, us, together.”

Groaning you hid your face against Carrie’s ultramarine blouse. “Carrie, you know perfectly well I don’t want to spend my birthday at a bar!”

You could hear her chuckles turning into half-giggles. “No, silly, I wouldn’t do that to you!”

“What then?”

She huffed. “I’m not telling you that. It wouldn’t be surprise after that.”

You peeked up at her eyes, your face still pressed tightly against her blouse. “What does Lullaby Boy’s physique mean?”

Carrie had this very satisfied look in her eyes, and it made you almost worried. There was something coming for your birthday, but at the moment you wanted nothing more than to have your poor double date and let the couch eat you. 

You wanted to forget him. You were probably never going to see him again, and what had those glances meant anyway? That’s what people do, they look at each other.

But the way he had looked at you… And you knew you had returned the looks.

They hadn’t been ‘oh, a new person’ looks. They had been ‘a new person I want to get to know’ looks, and you sighed.

‘A new person I want’ looks.

Turned into ‘a new person I won’t get’ looks when you had left.

You could’ve talked to him. There had been gaps for that. But you had thought you were being nice, that you could talk to him when he finished singing and now… Now you had lost every chance of seeing him ever again.

Maybe he wouldn’t have been the right for you, like Carrie’s boyfriend wasn’t right for her. Kenny was always a nice guy, but not all the couples can be a perfect match. Maybe this was better…

It still hurt.

The way he had looked at you… His voice, his fingers on the strings… His face…

Everything in him.

“Well, someone who’s not a Vin Diesel type of guy but not a string bean either,” Carrie’s words snatched you out of your miserable thoughts.

You let out a broken laugh. Vin Diesel was Carrie’s number one celebrity crush. “That’s not very specific. I think I’ll need a bit more to get your point.”

Carrie pouted at you. “Hmm, well… This one you’re thinking about,” she caught you, and you hid your face against her blouse again, “the Lullaby Boy, certainly is someone to lean against. You’re a daydreamer, and I know how you like your boys. Daydream Boy just doesn’t sound catchy!”

Your cheek was against her blouse as you moved your head a little, so your words wouldn’t get muffled against the material. “That name’s for the guys you think I could like? Oh, look, that one is such a Lullaby Boy!” Your imitation of Carrie was snotty and teary, but it made your friend laugh anyways.

“Basically,” he hummed, “but now it’ll be the name for him only. Would be a sin to call anyone else Lullaby Boy after someone like him.”

“Like it’d make any difference now… I will never find him again…”

“You’re such a pessimist, Y/N,” Carrie let out an exaggerated groan. “Try to be positive for once, okay? You’ll end up being a wrinkled old lady before being forty if you continue like this! I’m going to give you one hell of a kick on your birthday to get you closer to being this happy and living Y/N I know! I hate to see you sad… What could we do to make you happy?”

“Not only me, Carrie. You just broke up… How are you not sad?”

“Would be mean to show it; I feel pain and I miss Kenny, but I have better things to do than wallowing in my loss. You’re more important,” she hugged you tighter, and you let out a sound of a young child, this high-pitched squealing sound.

You could feel the new tears in your eyes. Maybe Carrie was right…

“Promise me you’ll come with me? Cancel the double date with Guylian and Pinot noir?”

You sniffed. “Okay… I’ll come with you. But just because you ask me so nicely, not because I want to stand up those nice guys.”

“Of course,” Carrie ruffled your hair. “You’ll love it, I promise. And perhaps me even more afterwards, too.”

You hummed softly in agreement. You weren’t sure could you love Carrie any more than you already did, but you were certainly going to.

“Now, could Bruce Willis keep us company tonight?” Carrie took the remote and started to scroll Netflix, other arm wrapped around your back.

She picked Die Hard, never letting go of you; she set the remote on the arm rest and the hand came back against your hair.

You were already a bit happier. Nothing could make you happier than watching your friend getting excited while seeing her celebrity crushes on screen.

 

********************

 

Your birthday had started with you wanting to stay in bed for the rest of the day. Carrie had let you be, but by noon she was practically dragging you out of your comfort zone, away from your new best friend.

Even though, you were still dreaming about Lullaby Boy. You wanted to know his name…

In those dreams he was sitting on the same stool, he had the same black sweater and the sleeves up on his elbows, playing the same guitar, singing Piano Man. Sometimes he looked at you, sometimes didn’t. You always woke up when he got up to get to you.

Carrie had gotten over Kenny quicker than you had thought she would. They were together for three years, and you could see Carrie really liked the guy. But she somehow seemed to have forgotten him already; she was too excited about your birthday. It was suspicious.

She was either going to assassinate you for fun or get you to face your worst fears.

She loved it when you screamed during horror movies. Didn’t matter were you doing it out of fear or just because you wanted the characters to know they weren’t supposed to do things they did. Those were the reasons why she was probably going to take you to a real life horror movie tonight.

But then she got you into a cab with her and told the place to the driver. You frowned as you turned to look at her.

“Carrie…?”

She smiled as she turned to look at you. “Y/N?”

“We’re going to the pub?”

The look on your face made her place her hand over yours. “We’re going to the pub.”

“Why? You never liked it there.”

She chuckled, holding your hand with hers. “Y/N dear, it’s your birthday. Try not to think about everyone else for once, okay?”

You stared at her for a while longer until your gaze found its way out of the window. You could recognize the streets as the cab got closer to the pub.

You hadn’t been there after that Friday. And now that Carrie was taking you there, you didn’t know how to feel.

Maybe the real life horror movie would’ve been better… Maybe this was the real life horror movie.

Soon it was the time for you to get out of the cab. Carrie paid, she insisted. You stood by the sidewalk and stared at the door of the pub, the warmth you could feel even when still outside. You remembered every single picture of an American musician, football player, every single one. All those license plates on the walls, one from each state. The brown, wooden tables and chairs, lodges and the warm atmosphere. Roger and his friends, those elderly women, the owner John who gave you drinks for free. Not because he tried to hit on you, simply because it was his way to do things. You weren’t the only one getting free drinks; he never gave free alcohol, only coffee or hot chocolate or tea. He didn’t want a reputation.

You understood John.

Carrie took you by your left arm and started to walk you inside before you could escape. She opened the door for you, making sure her gaze was on your face all the time. She was intimidating enough when she stared at you that you couldn’t even consider escaping.

You were still able to ask questions, though.

“Why did we come here, Carrie?” You sounded sadder than you had meant to.

“I’ll let you find that out by yourself,” she said in lightweight voice, giving you one last look after letting you go by the table she picked for the two of you. It was closer to the end than the one you had chosen the last time, much closer to Roger and his friends loudly claiming their usual lodge.

Carrie practically sat you down on the chair. Almost immediately after it John came to your table with two cups of hot chocolate with cream and marshmallows. He smiled in the middle of his mustache and beard and tapped your shoulder when he set the cup down in front of you.

“Happy birthday, kid,” John was almost 60 years old, grey-haired man with a lot similar beard to the one Hagrid had in Harry Potter movies. You had liked him since the first second, and his sincere and genuine smile and tap on your shoulder made you smile.

“Thank you, John,” you looked up at his eyes that were blue in one light and green in some other.

“You don’t have to pay for that, Carrie. I’m giving them for free. It’s Y/N’s birthday after all,” John hurried to stop your friend as her hand disappeared inside her black purse. When he spoke about your birthday, John smiled to you again.

You smiled back to him and then turned towards Carrie, frowning.

How did John know her name?

“No, I wasn’t going to. I’ve heard stories of you, John. Free coffees and cocoas and stuff,” Carrie’s other hand was making very odd movements in the air as the other was still in the purse. She took her phone out when she finally found it with a long and relieved sigh.

John chortled warmly. “Yes, well… Have a nice night. You’ll get whatever you want, Y/N. For your birthday,” he gave you a fatherly nod and pat on the back and left you to get back to the bar. You had enough time to thank him and then he was gone, his tall and big form sailing back. His low voice echoed on the walls as he whistled to get Roger’s attention and then asked would they like some more whiskey.

Carrie nibbled on a marshmallow as she looked at the screen of her phone. You could see her smiling through the candy. Her lips moved to form a silent word, something you read as perfect but wasn’t entirely sure. Then she dropped her phone back in her purse and turned to look at you.

“Hey, birthday girl! These marshmallows are so good, oh my god…”

She looked like she was trying to hide something. You frowned as you looked at her, pulling your mug closer as if she could suddenly steal your marshmallows.

“Are you okay?”

“Of course,” she took the cup by her lips. “Why?”

“You’re acting weird. Should I be worried?”

“No, you should not,” she held the cup with both of her hands, and you stared at her. For so long you woke up only when you heard Roger cheering and saw Carrie’s smile. You turned your head…

“What – “

You never got to the end.

He was there.

Lullaby Boy was there. He sat on the black stool with his guitar. This time he didn’t have the cap on and his shirt dark and deep shade of purple instead of black. You could see the ends of white shirt’s sleeves and start of its neck under it. He looked down on the floor as he sat down and played with his guitar for a moment. Then he saw Roger and his friends and gave them a smile.

When he started to play the first song, you recognized it immediately. John Denver’s Country Roads filled the pub; his voice filled the pub…

And he looked at you. His lips twitched a little as if he was trying to hold back a smile. You were still able to see it and gave him one of your own smiles.

 

“I hear her voice, in the morning hour she calls me

The radio reminds me of my home far away

And driving down the road I get a feeling

That I should have been home yesterday, yesterday

 

Country roads, take me home

To the place I belong

West Virginia, mountain mama

Take me home, country roads”

 

You could feel Carrie’s eyes on you; saw her smile hanging on the corner of your eye. But you had eyes for Lullaby Boy, for only him.

He was here. How was he here? You had thought you’d never see him again.

He fell silent when the song ended. In the middle of applauds he looked at you, leaning his hand against the guitar. His smile was so warm and gentle you thought it lasted for a small eternity.

Then Roger was breaking it again.

“Nice to see you back, boy,” he said and got Lullaby Boy’s attention. “House of the Rising Sun, would ya? You said you know the song.”

“Sorry, Roger,” he said and turned to look at you again. “Not now…”

You couldn’t see Roger’s face but the way his head moved told he was confused. His friend who was sitting opposite to him followed Lullaby Boy’s gaze and found you. You hardly noticed soon all of them were looking at you.

Then Lullaby Boy started to speak.

“I was told that it’s someone’s birthday today. And I was also told that this girl… She’s looking for herself, could use some encouragement. As someone who’s still looking for himself and… sort of where am I gonna go next and how am I gonna get there…” He was silent for a moment. It was filled with a smile and looking right into your eyes, and that way got you feel the tears behind them. There was something between you and him, something deep and eternal, like you had known each other for many lifetimes. “I wrote her a song. I hope I can give her a reason to keep looking; there’s always something. For all of us. We just have to believe… in new beginnings.”

His gaze never left you when he started to play. But it got glued to you when he opened his mouth to sing.

 

“Give me a half of your tears

We have a long way to go

But I promise to carry them all

Over every bridge and

Through every detour we may take

In the calling wind of the seven seas

In the waves of freedom

They’re waiting for you to follow

 

Just when you think

The road is long

And you have no reason

To go on

When you think

You’ve lost the way

I will hold your hand

 

You don’t have to fear

Just remember

This life is made

Of new beginnings

 

That’s how I light my fires

I close the doors between

Me and my doubts

When the tide rolls in

I force it to walk past me

‘Cause it can only take, not give

And I’m not showing myself to it

 

All that is in you now

All you need to survive somehow

Make it through the winds and storms

See the red light of the newborn dawn

Find the courage to dip your fingers in

The ink for writing the story of you

It’s all where it needs to be

Right there

In your soul

 

Hush now

Tonight and on the days on end

Don’t be afraid, my dear

She told me a story of an aching soul

But what I see is yet to grow

The love for life

The world is out there for you to find

 

Run, my girl, take that freedom

This world is made for us

Of new beginnings

The stars in our eyes

The gold of our hearts

And the road is long

But you’re not alone

 

Hand on heart

I swear

I’ll be there

When you find your path

Yourself in the middle

Of new beginnings”

 

You could feel yourself tearing up. The cup of hot chocolate was getting cold in front of you, but you didn’t care.

“H-how?” It was the only thing you got out. Your voice was small and full of tears that didn’t get out as you looked at Lullaby Boy.

“It was me. I came to look for him. John’s in this with me. I got Lullaby Boy’s number and called him to be here on this very day. His name is Ryan,” Carrie started to speak. She was halfway through her own drink but left it there. “Happy birthday, Y/N.”

You turned to Lullaby Boy, who had stopped singing and was just sitting there on the stool with this same shy and modest look in his eyes. Everyone was clapping their hands again, even harder and for a longer time now.

Then you realized what John’s part was in all this.

His low voice filled the air again as he called out for Roger: “Play us your banjo a bit, would you?”

And suddenly, Roger was in it too. “I’d love to, John. Let me just…” He got up with his banjo he apparently had with him and walked towards Lullaby Boy. He had stood up and they met halfway, Roger grabbed his shoulder.

He was a bit shorter than Lullaby Boy but was still able to say close to his face: “That was a good one, boy. Go, get the girl.”

At the same time, Carrie turned to look at you. “This is the moment you get your ass up and take your chance. Wipe your tears and make yourself happy.”

“What if he doesn’t…?”

Carrie didn’t let you stop. She shook her head. “He does. Go. Get your new beginning.”

You got up when Roger left Lullaby Boy alone and took his place on the stool. He still had his guitar when he made his way towards you and touched the back of his neck with his free hand. Roger playing his banjo was escorting the both of you as you made it towards each other.

He was handsome. He was even beautiful. His eyes were so brown they were almost black and his features were so gentle and soft. When he stood there in front of you, you felt it deeper; like you had known him for long.

“Ryan…” Saying his name felt good. It felt right. “Thank you for the song. I… It was beautiful. I really needed it.”

“You’re welcome,” he took a quick glance at Carrie who was smiling. “And… I know. Your friend told me why you had to leave, how you were… I was… I’m glad I stayed in town. I’m glad that I can be here tonight.”

You weren’t mad at Carrie about telling Ryan. She had done it to tell it had had nothing to do with him. And it hadn’t; you would’ve stayed but your family had needed you. Your grandfather had gone home from the hospital by now and everything was fine.

“Happy birthday, Y/N,” Ryan’s voice got softer and deeper when he said that, so that only you could hear it. The way he said your name gave you butterflies; he was so close you could’ve touched him if you wanted. But you didn’t do it.

“Thank you…” You could feel how your cheeks flushed. “Want to… want to sit with us?”

“Oh no, no, no,” Carrie was suddenly next to you, nodded her hellos to Ryan and then turned to you. “I’m leaving. My work here is done.”

“Carrie, you can’t…”

“I can. Y/N, I won’t disappear from your life. I’ll just give you some space. I’ll be home when you come.”

You couldn’t say anything; just wrap your arms around your friend. She hugged you tightly against her as you buried your face against her shoulder. “I thought we’d spend my birthday together…”

“We will have many birthdays to spend together, Y/N. You need this, trust me. Besides, I met someone,” she pulled back to look into your eyes and she gave you so bright smile it practically blinded you.

Ryan was smiling at her but didn’t interrupt the conversation.

“You met someone… Carrie,” you were able to spot a black-haired young man by the table you had sat at. Your cup of hot chocolate was still there and seemed untouched. “I can’t thank you enough. When I come home, we’ll – “

“When you come home, we’ll both be happy. Stay. Bye now,” she glanced at Ryan and nodded to him before kissed your cheek and left with the young man.

Ryan sat with you, and John gave him a coffee. You got a new hot chocolate, but finished the cold one anyways. For the rest of the evening you chatted, got to know each other; Ryan played bits of songs you said to him, sang the parts he knew. He wanted you to sing to him.

By the end of the night, you had a feeling of knowing for far longer time than one night.

And he felt the same way about you. When he looked at you… He saw someone he wanted to keep. He had made that promise; he only needed you to want the same. It was getting late and he’d have to say it if he wanted to make sure.

“Y/N,” he said after helping you with your coat, “can I… ask you something?”

“Of course,” you turned to face him, cheeks a bit crimson from laughter and the fact that he had touched you, even though so casually.

“Would you… Is it any way possible that you’d like to,” he looked right into your eyes, “see me again?”

It caught you off guard. Even though, you had thought about the same thing. Ryan was nice, he was funny and smart and gorgeous and creative and thoughtful… just somewhat perfect.

But you thought you had pink glasses on. Would he want to see you again? Now you knew he would, and your cheeks turned crimson. But so did his.

“Yes,” you said, seeing him biting his lower lip, “I’d love to see you again, Ryan. Many times.”

He was closer to you, smiling. He was holding his guitar with his right hand, but the left cupped your jawline. “I’m very happy about that…” He almost whispered. His brown eyes looked right into your eyes and his thumb stroked your skin. It found the corner of your lips and stopped there.

Felt like time had stopped. You didn’t hear Roger’s banjo, not his loud voice singing a little out of tune, not the door opening and closing – it was like you were in your very own world, just the two of you.

His lips were soft against yours, body warm as it was brushing yours, eyes looking down at you and – you had nowhere else to be. This was your place. With your Lullaby Boy of new beginnings.


End file.
